


Those Tuesday Morning's

by Snowmane



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowmane/pseuds/Snowmane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Amell mansion didn't change much since Anders moved in. Leandra tries to behave like a noble, her daughter obviously doesn't and domestic magic is a banality compared to a war hound larking about and a dwarf who can enchant just about everything. Short ficlet about some happy moments between all the depression in the romance with a slightly possessed healer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Tuesday Morning's

Like no one else Marian Hawke thrived in chaos.  
Those who spoke against her said so since years but it seemed Kirkwall had only recently begun to understand what this statement actually meant. She appeared during the Blight with hundreds of other Fereldans, tattered clothes, malnourished and eyes widening with fear as the boats passed the Gallows. A fretting brother, her anxious mother and a ginger-haired woman in her wake they stumbled into Lowtown and nobody could have foreseen what would come from this. Because Kirkwall was not only the centre of Templar power in the Free Marches or the City of Chains – Kirkwall also was a city state full of trouble and that seemed to be just the perfect condition for her.  
Their uncle’s lousy rat hole had been exchanged for the reclaimed mansion of the Amell family now. She successfully ruined the neighbourhood and at least a dozen noble’s parties, made more friends – and enemies – than most people did in a whole century and quickly turned into something Seneschal Bran once had called a “political maelstrom”.  
Even if she sometimes complained about her lack of positively boring evenings in front of the fireplace with nice food and a good book, he knew she enjoyed the chaotic life they led.  
And he could not love her more for it.

It was no difference this morning. Still half asleep he had found the other side of the bed empty. Following his nose and empty stomach he had scuffled into the kitchen, trying to keep his ruffled hair out of his face without sucess. Upon entering the room he was greeted with a jolly hurly-burly of clattering cutlery, half-prepared food and too many hands trying to help and only making things worse. Orana was standing at the hearth, frying eggs and bacon – the scent immediately made his stomach rumble. She reached out for an empty dish, trying to fight off the giant Marbari war dog and a hungry dwarf at her heels. “I’ll call you if I’m ready. Sandal, be a good boy and get this dog out of the kitchen!”  
“Doggy wants to play!” the boy yelled happily, hugging his furry friend and getting a slobbery kiss in return.  
“Listen to what the Lady says, boy. Give her some room and take Troll with you before he jumps on the work place again.” Bodahn was balancing a giant tower of dirty dishes out of the way, trying his best to help the elven woman. “You two could fetch some strawberries from the garden for dessert and -”  
With an excited howl the boy stormed towards the back door, the dog pacing behind him. Unfortunately the latter bumped into Bodahn on his way out, the elderly dwarf stumbled and dropped the dishes – which came to halt only an inch above the stone floor, formed an orderly stack and levitated towards the kitchen sink.  
“I’m so sorry, Mylady…”  
“It’s fine, no harm done.” Marian Hawke wiped her fingers clean on her robes and turned her back again to cut some more cheese from a big cheese wheel she must have bought this morning. Nobody in the kitchen seemed to mind the floating dishes. Neither did they react to the kettle starting to boil after a well-placed fire spell or the self-cutting bread beside her. Well, if you got used to her peculiar way of getting rid of the weeds in her garden – tiny, but well placed fire balls - there was no domestic magic that could still shock you. Well, nearly none.  
“No levitating knifes, Marian!” Her mother shook her head. “You nearly cut off Carver’s ear with that non-sense once. Will you go back to throwing scissors around next?” The elderly woman was already sitting at the table, obviously answering the giant pile of letters in front of her. She was always so calm compared to the others he had simply overseen her until now.  
“Oh, good morning, young man. Been busy in the clinic all night?” She gave him this special look only a mother or grandmother could pull off. It would not surprise Anders at all if she would start talking about him not eating enough or having grown again. A warm, comfortable feeling rose in his chest as he dropped down beside her. He was sitting in a kitchen stirring with people and magic being used as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Of course the Circle mages or Tevinter magisters would cringe at Hawke’s usage of her talent for such minor tasks but he had quickly learned that heating up a kettle, preparing cutlery and getting hot bread out of the oven at the same time and without hitting anybody was as much a challenge as keeping more than one spell going during battle. Whatever Malcolm had taught his daughter – and with which unusual methods - it clearly had made her a more than just formidable mage.  
Sometimes, in these moments, he actually believed in a world where mages could be free and were equal members of society. Justice awoke at this thought, like a cat lifting its head from a nap in the sun. He disliked Hawke with as much passion as Anders loved her – which put him in a quite uncomfortable position. But the spirit remained relatively calm. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person, either.  
Leandra pulled him out of his thoughts by nudging him with her elbow and shoving a cheesy looking leaflet towards him. Guessing from the small drawing of a dress it was an advertisement from one of the Hightown dressmakers. And guessing from all the pink and frilly ornaments it was a shop he would never-ever set a foot in. “The Carrac family is having a big celebration next week and I would like Marian to wear some decent attire this time”, the elderly woman explained in a hushed voice. “If she shows up in full armour and blood-stained sleeves one more time there is nothing I can do to save her reputation.”  
Her reputation? Five years in Kirkwall and Marian had built reputation enough for a lifetime. But maybe not the kind her mother would like to.  
“I thought you two could go together, it’s a ball after all. I know the hosts from my childhood days, they are good people.” He had to control himself carefully to not stare at Leandra with an open mouth. Hawke and himself at a noble party? In fancy clothes and dancing? The Fereldan apostate and… well, the _other_ Fereldan apostate? Quite a title. Before he could illuminate his doubts Hawke’s mother continued her monologue: “They do teach you how to dance in the Circle, do they?”  
Now Anders nearly choked on his attempt not to laugh out loud. “No, not really” he coughed. Dancing lessons from a templar. He would not be able to erase the picture of Knight-Commander Greagoir dancing the Remigold from his mind ever again.  
“No? Malcolm did dance quite good. But he never told me where he learned it. Well, we’ll have to work on that then…” She padded his hand and gave him a reassuring grin. Anders was not sure if Lady Amell was joking with him. The look in her eyes spoke against it, though. Marian normally wore the same dangerously stubborn expression when she walked into the Gallows with a staff strapped to her back.  
“What are you two talking about? Maker’s breath, that’s one sappy leaflet! What do they sell, extra-shiny ribbons with sparkles on top?” Unnoticed by them, Hawke had walked over to the table and now leaned far over his shoulders to catch a glimpse of the leaflet. He smiled and Justice growled as he felt the warmth of her body through his thin linen shirt.  
“Shiny and subversive, huh?” he mocked her, turning his head to place a quick kiss on Marian’s cheek. If Justice would have a physical form outside his body he would now most likely start hitting his head against a wall. Or strangle them both.  
“Oh, I’d like that.” She whispered in his ear, her hands sliding down from his shoulders to rest on his upper arms.  
Her mother stopped their flirting by loudly clearing her throat. “It was between the letters from today. Maybe you should take a look before you start your mocking, Marian. Honestly, you cannot run around in these robes all day. When I was your age I loved wearing pretty dresses. And if you are already at it, you’ll need a pair of decent shoes as well. I don’t care if those boots are enchanted or not, you will not again wear them to a formal din-“  
“Enchantment!” Sandal and the dog dashed back into the room, red stains of strawberry juice and dark soil all over them. Orana and Leandra sighed simultaneously, Bodahn immediately started to apologize, the dog barked happily and managed to knock over both dwarfs in just one go. Beside Anders' ear Marian giggled quietly before pulling his chin towards her and using the distraction for a passionate kiss.  
Smiling he pulled her on his lap, wrapping his arms securly around her waist and nuzzling her neck. _Yes_ , he thought as Leandra went to help the elderly dwarf and he quickly placed a few kisses on her daughter's now-bared shoulder. _I could get used to this kind of chaos._


End file.
